


When the rain washes you clean, you'll know

by historiareiss



Category: Fleetwood Mac (Band)
Genre: And I mean a LOT, Drug Abuse, F/M, drug mention, i think both lindsey and mick could be huge dicks especially to stevie, it's not like i think mick is inherently a bad person but, just two dumbasses singing the blues to each other, like how lowkey abusive and disrespectful mick was to stevie during their affair, mcvie marriage and divorce may feature in the background, okay so basically what you'll find here is a lot of band drama, post break up sex, there's also a bunch of problematic undertones (?) to unpack, they put the ex in sexy, whose primary goal is to make the other (and me) suffer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historiareiss/pseuds/historiareiss
Summary: Buckingham Nicks over the years. Lyric insight, a sprinkle of smut, and a bunch of angst.
Relationships: Buckingham Nicks, Christine McVie/John McVie, Lindsey Buckingham/Stevie Nicks, lindsey buckingham & christine mcvie (platonic), mick fleetwood/stevie nicks
Kudos: 13





	1. Shacking up is all you wanna do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumours Era. The beginning of Mick and Stevie's affair on the eve of the Rumours' tour, entirely from Lindsey Buckingham's pov.

There was nothing else for him these days. Just his guitar, his fingers and the music. He would rehearse the same two or three guitar solos from the new album and then come up with new arrangements. When he'd finally be satisfied with the result, he would eventually call for either Mick or John and ask for their opinion. Hopefully they'd let him play the arrangements during the upcoming tour, or even better, put them on the B-side with the rest of the demo versions.

“Oh, you're here.” Chris, who had been a bit down lately due to the divorce, mostly, just walked through the studio's door, and stopped on the threshold at the sight of him. Lindsey saw her from the corner of his eye before he heard her. Her blond hair catching the dim light almost gave him a minor heart attack. He thought it could be Stevie. He almost wished it was her, staying behind just to check on him, despite all the bad blood. But it took him less than a moment to realize that it couldn't be her. He knew Stevie better than anyone, he could recognize her by her aura alone. And this was only Chris. Stevie had most definitely joined the others at that stupid posh party.

“I thought everyone else had gone to that posh party.” Christine seemed to have read the words right from his mind and spoken them out loud. It almost gave him the creeps, how she could manage that with all four of her bandmates. Lindsey was also glad it was her, though. The pianist of Fleetwood Mac had a kind of reassuring and descreet demeanor about her. He felt like he could tell her anything, and she'd understand, without judging.

He just wasn't in the mood to talk, though. Not when Stevie was dancing with strangers and snorting white lines off any surface in the house. He just wanted to play his guitar and let the world know that he was the only reason why she was accepted into the band. As a side-effect to his skills and talent.  
A charming and sometimes annoying side-effect.

He knew he would snap out of it tomorrow. He'd shag some new girl who came to meet him in the backstage and snort his own white powder in the next hotel room he'd spend the night at.

But not tonight. Tonight he wanted to be alone and play, reminiscing about the girl who broke his heart first. After all, that was the very feeling that had made Rumours so great.

He almost forgot Christine was there too. Then he looked up again, confused. “What? Even Mick? I needed him to go over some new arrangements.”

Chris shrugged, and went to sit on the coffee table. She spread her legs in her usual confidential manner, and joined her hands in between them. “I can give it a listen, if you want. I might not be as honest as Mick, but at the very least I am not as drunk, nor as high either.”

Lindsey struggled to smile. He didn't like that non-answer. Christine's soft-spoken sensible way of telling only half the truth was only one of her many assets. And he wondered if perhaps she was trying to spare him a pain. He knew that he should suspect something, but it didn't necessarily matter now. He could always confront Mick about going to the same cocaine party as Stevie the next day.

“It doesn't matter. It can wait 'till tomorrow. Do you wanna talk?”

Christine cracked a melancholy smile. John had hurt her, probably worse than Stevie had ever hurt him, and yet she kept it together better than anyone else in the band. All her heartbreak only made her an even more soulful songstress. Lindsey couldn't help feeling a little in awe of her.

“Just play, Linds. Play it all out.”

*

The next day, Mick seemed to be nowhere to be found. And so did Stevie.

Lindsey thought nothing of it at first. He was always late. And Stevie... well, he was better off, in any case. He didn't think of connecting the dots until the two showed up together at the band meeting that John had requested. They didn't touch nor act in any way out of the ordinary, yet Lindsey couldn't take his eyes off them. He was waiting for a sign, the smallest hint of a connection, the final proof that he wasn't simply losing his mind over his ex girlfriend.

“An urgent band meeting a week before the tour starts? God, I must have fucked up real bad this time.” Fleetwood laughed out loud, and both Chris and Stevie echoed his laughter cheerfully.

John tossed a bunch of music sheets across the table in hopes that they would reach Mick's seat, much to Lindsey's annoyance. He had worked extra hard on those, whilst the rest of them were too busy fucking and doing drugs.

Gosh, he definitely needed a good fuck as well. His thoughts kept growing more bitter by the minute and he knew that it would all catch up to him and the band eventually.

“Not this time, Mick. Lindsey wanted to show you these. They're fine by me, but I suppose he was still eager for your quality seal. You're the gold digger of the lot, after all.” John bursted in a laugh as well. The way they were all talking so openly, and laughing so lightly, (even Chris!) got on Lindsey's every nerve.

Stevie looked over the table to him. She seemed curious to know what this was all about, and looked at him as if she would pry the answer from his face. But she wouldn't. In fact, he didn't even look at her. He was too bitter and focused on Mick's expression to pay her any mind right now.

Mick raised his eyes then and met Lindsey's. “These are pretty fuckin' good, Linds. Are you sure you're gonna be able to perform them on such a short notice? We're starting the tour in six days and you only just came up with these.”

“Positive.” He cried out, satisfied despite himself. He had been a member of Fleetwood Mac for some time now, and still, he sought his elder's approval, whilst Stevie there, she just needed to fuck anyone in the band in order to feel like she belonged. Like she hadn't entered the band just because he had specifically asked Mick to let his girlfriend join too.

“Well, then.” Mick said, seemingly happy with how the entire thing played out. “If this is all, I'd better get going now. This headache is going to murder me if I don't do something about it soon.”

Stevie rested a hand on his shoulder, pursing her lips in an endearing (and annoying) way.

“Why, Mick, you're lucky to even be alive after last night!”

There it was. The sign. They had indeed attended the same party. Maybe even spent the night together? Lindsey's head went completely blank for a long moment. He could feel his temples pulsing in irritation. One half of him wanted to go over and punch Mick in his long, dumb, smug face. The other half wanted to shout in Stevie's face that the line from Go Your Own Way (the “ _shacking up_ ” line she had complained about endlessly) was surely deserved and far too kind for the likes of her. But he did no such thing. Maybe it was Christine's knowing and attentive gaze on him, or his own wounded pride that demanded better from him, but he just pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. His face smooth and straight like still water.

“Yeah, I'll leave the rest to you, then. I have a rather urgent appointment and I wouldn't want to keep her waiting.”

He said that just when he was certain that he would draw Stevie's attention. She didn't let herself gape, but the cheerfulness died on her face just then and it didn't go lost on him. Her pain was the sweetest and only medicine for his battered ego. He didn't have any appointment as of now yet, but finding one wouldn't be too hard. Like Stevie herself said, women came and went constantly for him, after all.


	2. Just tell me that you want me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tusk Era. The post-break up lies between Stevie and Lindsey finally come undone. One night, after a bad fight with the other band members, Lindsey shows up at Stevie's apartment and explains the feelings behind Tusk... with his body.

“It's a dumb title, anyway. What will our fans think?” Stevie complained. Her big eyes gleamed under her blond bangs. It was the childish gleam of pique.  
She didn't like being opposed, but was rather used to it by now. Mick, though he had been her sexual partner for several months by now, was by far her fiercest opponent on the matter. Even when Lindsey or John had nothing against her suggestions, Mick would still speak up and object to whatever she came up with.

This bad habit of his had begun eroding the relationship between them, but neither of them seemed to care particularly.

“Since when do you care what fans think?” Mick's voice was empty and distant, like he wasn't even going to discuss it. He didn't even look at her, as he was too focused on the album tracks playing through his headphones for that. Lindsey smiled sardonically, but averted his eyes from both of them.  
Stevie would have loved nothing better than smacking that devilish grin from his face, and she would have surely conveyed such emotion, had Lindsey locked eyes with her in that moment.

But he didn't. The only person who did not ignore Stevie, was Christine. She wasn't very willing to let the point subside, either.

“Why does it always have to be what you say, Mick? _Tusk_ sounds weird. It's not even the best song on the album. And you only want the album named like that because that's the song you and Lindsey worked hardest on.” She remained calm and polite all through it, but whoever knew her could tell that she meant every word. She wanted to be taken seriously.

Mick finally took off his headphones and looked at John, hoping for some support from him at least.

“We all worked on the track, Chris. Didn't we? It says precisely what we all want to say, in my opinion.” McVie volunteered, weighing his words carefully. The peace within the band had never been more at risk, not since Rumours came out. Lindsey's stubborness with that stupid innuendo in the Tusk song threatened to water the seeds of discord back to life. Somehow, Mick had been his accomplice in that. Everybody else in the band expected them to be at odds over Stevie, but the tension between them never came down to open conflict. They simply worked together, passionately, preferring to redirect their resentment to Stevie.

John hated to be on Mick and Lindsey's side in that, but the song had precisely the vibe they had strived for. Experimental, wild and provocative. It evoked the chaotic intoxicating percussions of Africa, whence their inspiration came. It deserved to be the album's title, too. Not to mention the flamboyant replica of elephant tusks that Mick had attached to the console in the recording studio.

It might not have been pleasant to say, or acknowledge, but Mick and Lindsey had given that album their all, and John wasn't certainly one to deny musical genius.

Clearly, he knew better than to tell Chris and Stevie all this. He just hoped they would let the matter fall quickly, possibly before Stevie would catch up on the real meaning behind the word _tusk_.

Mick's wicked sense of humour would please her even less than Lindsey's hints at the affair between herself and Fleetwood. A rather deadly combo that undermined the band's dynamics. John didn't like the sound of it one speck. He liked it even less when his ex wife rounded on him over that stupid topic.

“Oh really? Is that it? Since when Lindsey's words speak for all of us?” Chris openly took on John. Stevie couldn't dare that. Not even Mick could dare that, not unless he was drunk, or high on something very strong, at least. Lindsey's self-satisfied grin turned into a vague expression of concern. Stevie wasn't sure about what she had just caused, but sparking a little clash for the sake of making herself heard was not beneath her. Besides, she was done with being patronized and glossed over by Mick. He seemed to be nurturing the delusion that sleeping with her gave him the right to walk all over her on the work place, and Lindsey, who should have been his rival, suddenly became his partner in crime. They shared a mischievous camaderie that irked Stevie to no end. She had caught them in the act of sharing bawdy exaggerated stories about her once or twice, when they thought (mistakenly) to be out of anyone's earshot. The abuse hurt her, but knowing that Lindsey was so over her that he could bear to be such good friends with her new bedmate hurt her even worse and deeper. She had lied to herself countless times, telling herself that it was just sex between Lindsey and Carol Ann, not too different from what had been going on between herself and Mick, after all.

But it was apparent now that Lindsey truly loved Carol Ann, and had stopped loving her or even caring about her altogether. And it broke her heart, to know that.

*

For the sake of the band's functionality, the album title issue was dropped that day, put off to some other undefined moment in the future. John and Chris had come to very bad, angry words, and when even Lindsey raised his voice, Stevie had to grab her coat from the couch in the left corner of the studio, and leave, slamming the door behind her back. It was all too much to bear for her. Mick called her back twice. Not because he wanted to reassure her, but because he merely wanted to rub the mess she had caused in her face. She was so done with that.

Stevie was sick of him, and sick of all the pretense she needlessly put herself through all those months. Somehow, she couldn't bear the idea of even being romantically involved with Mick anymore, not now that she had finally realized that Lindsey wasn't pretending with the Harris girl. He had been dead serious from the start, and she had never felt more stupid and exposed than she did now.

She would break up with Mick at the first chance, there was nothing else for it. Not now, though. Now she just wanted to take the first cab home and let herself slip into the deepest slumber.

She would speak to him tomorrow, first thing, or maybe the day after that. Perhaps she wouldn't even need to tell him anything, perhaps he had already broken up with her in his mind after today.

It was all so blurry at present. Tears started welling behind her eyelids as she sat in the back seat of the taxi. She hoped the driver wouldn't notice.  
She still had reservations about being seen crying by strangers. The taxi driver was rather discreet about it, to be sure, and let her weep in peace, with a nice background music playing on the car radio, at that.

When she finally got home, she barely made it out of her clothes, and into her black silk negligee, before falling asleep. Even the thoughts that constantly haunted her, succumbed to the weariness from spending over ten hours in the recording studio, singing and listening to the same twenty songs over and over again. The album was almost finished. That much, at least, comforted her.

*

The phone ringing woke her up. No, actually, it was the door bell. Who could it be in the middle of the night? Her sight was still adjusting to the light of the digital alarm clock and could not distinguish the time at first. The red lights forming the digits _2:23 AM_ almost hurt her eyes. She instinctively thought of Sara.  
Stevie had meant to hit her up in the morning, to tell her just how awful Mick had been to her, that it was all over between them, for good this time, that she could have him all to herself, if she still wanted him. With her eyes still sleepy and her hair tousled, Stevie got out of bed, and rushed downstairs, to stand in front of the door, all the while trying not to bump into the furniture in the hallway. What she saw through the peep-hole was even more shocking than all her wildest dreams combined.

She almost panicked there for a moment at the sight of Lindsey Buckingham. A part of her impulsive self even considered going back upstairs to brush her teeth and comb her messy hair. She could have at least thrown a dressing gown over her nearly transparent negligee, for the sake of appearances. But what was she even freaking out for? It was just Lindsey. They'd known each other for years, been around each other long before fame hit them, before all the posh parties and the fancy hotel rooms and the clothes would come. And besides, if he was truly over her like she believed, it wouldn't matter at all in whatever attire she'd show up before him. He had probably just come to discuss what happened at the studio earlier that day. Even so, what was so important about it that couldn't wait till the morning? She wouldn't find out until she heard him, that was for sure.

“Thought you meant to make me freeze out here.” His eyes widened eagerly at the sight of her, like he was only half hoping that she would open the door, and half dreading that she wouldn't.

“After today, perhaps I should.” Stevie replied, sassy and silver-tongued as usual. In spite of the late hour, she felt wide awake, dangerously alert in his presence. His smile curled a bit on his lips, as he walked through the door and past his ex girlfriend. He knew his way around the house like he had lived there for years. That wasn't the truth, though. He hadn't been to her house in months. Not since he started dating Carol Ann. Stevie closed the door behind her, and followed him to the living room, where he had already taken off his coat and made himself comfortable on the couch. Stevie switched the lights on, and that's when she was reminded of her own semi-nakedness. Lindsey's eyes lingered aimlessly on her entire body. She knew she ought to feel embarrassed, but really, seeing how he blushed and averted his gaze after taking in the sight of her body, only made her proud. Why should she be the embarrassed one, if all she had done was sleep peacefully in her own house until he came and disturbed her peace? Perhaps, letting him see how unapologetic and indifferent to him she was, was the real revenge she had been long craving. Stevie stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What is it?” She sighed, helplessly, as she went to sit in the armchair across the living room. “Does Carol Ann know you are here?”

“I don't have to tell her everything that I do.” He retorted, clenching his jaw, as the irritation in him was beginning to show. He didn't like being reminded that he didn't belong here, in his ex girlfriend's living room, or that he had a new girlfriend waiting for him at home.

“Very well. None of my business.” Stevie clicked her tongue, and inwardly congratulated herself for how uninterested and peevish she managed to sound even though her heart was thumping wildly in her chest. “May I at least know what you are doing here so late at night?”

“I wanted to see you. You know, I didn't like how today played out... I...” His words drifted off, almost inaudibly. It was as if he had grown progressively disillusioned with his own lie.

Stevie stared at him with one eyebrow arched upward, in disbelief. “If it's about that stupid tusk song, forget about it. Name the album however you want.” She hadn't meant to sound so snappish and harsh at first. The anger in her was still fresh, and certainly real. “It is clear that it's your album, and Mick's. Like John said, you contributed to most of the songs, after all, and blah blah blah. It's not like I ever expected it to be named after one of _my_ songs, anyway.”

“Did you even listen to the song carefully? Did you ever pay attention to the actual lyrics?” Lindsey cut in on her, seething with rage and visibly so now. His icy eyes were pinning Stevie down on her seat. “They're about you.” He confessed, pained that he should spell it out for her, after all those years. A spark of relief dawned on Stevie's face, and Lindsey saw that, so he promptly elected to smother it. “Tusk is about you, and your goddamn lies, and your unseemly affair with that clot. I do not even give a damn if you love me anymore, or if you don't.” He rose to his feet then, and slowly took a few steps in the woman's direction. She flattened her spine against the armchair's backrest, afraid of what might happen. Could she bear the consequences of having Lindsey back in her life as a romantic partner again? Could she live with the guilt of having Lindsey cheat on his girlfriend with her? She had dreamed about this same exact scenario nearly every night since their break up, three years earlier, but in her daydreams there were no consequences to deal with. This was totally new, and utterly unexpected, and far too real.

“Just fucking tell me that you want me, that you're still mine in some way, that those men were only a goddamn rebound.” Lindsey had his palms planted on the armrests, pushing Stevie deeper into the backrest with his presence alone. His face was impossibly close to hers now. She could sense his breath on her face, and had to restrain the impending urge of drawing him in for a kiss. She still had a dignity, after all.

“Why should I tell you such thing if you won't do the same for me? Is Carol Ann a rebound, too?” She hissed, hateful and smooth like a slap folded in a satin glove. Lindsey gritted his teeth and bent his head, as his hands turned into fists on each side of Stevie's seated figure. He hated being exposed like this. He hated giving something up. He would keep both women, if only she let him, but she wouldn't. He would have to resign his delusion of being a good and loyal boyfriend to Carol Ann... if he wanted her to admit as much, that is. Stevie made sure to convey all this through her steady gaze, innocent in spite of what she demanded of him.

“You know, no matter what I do or who I fuck, I just can never seem to get you out of my head. You are like a bloody nail in my brain.  
I remember everything, even though I wish I could forget. Your body, your voice, your thoughts, your dreams, your stupid quirks. I am not even sure I love you at all, it's just-”

“It's alright.” Stevie cut in, interrupting him, not sure whether she cared to hear more of that. “I don't love you either. I still want you, though.” She lied, of course. What else could she do? This mirage of a man, her lost love, was confessing right in front of her that he still thought of her, that he still remembered everything about her. He probably wanted her and hated her more than he had ever loved her, but aren't love and hatred two sides of the same coin? She decided just then, that his hatred and his lust were good enough for her. They were certainly better than his indifference.  
The longing in her was too overwhelming to be delayed any further. She grabbed him by the neck and kissed him full on the lips. His hands went swiftly to her head, he grasped at her unruly hair like a helpless child. The kiss they shared was so desperate that it took away both of their breaths. His hands still remembered how to touch her when they moved down to fondle her breasts and then further down, on her thighs and in between them. She was the first woman he had ever touched, after all.  
They were far too eager and touch-starved to make it to the queen size upstairs. Her flesh howled to be reunited with his, even down there, where the wet slit of her sex clenched around Lindsey's fingers. Stevie unzipped his jeans there, took him in her mouth, but as much as he enjoyed the feeling of her lips and tongue around his cock, he pulled her away soon enough, spread her legs, and had her on the designer armchair, multiple times, until they were both sweaty and breathless.  
The consequences that Stevie knew they would both have to face were for the cruel mornings, while _this_ , this was for the nights.


	3. There's distance between us and you're on my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella Donna Era. Stevie has just lost her best friend, but luckily Lindsey is there to catch her.

“Again,” Lindsey rolled his eyes so far back in his head that Carol Ann flashed him an apprehensive look, as they were both sitting in the hotel's private lounge overlooking the pool, breaking their fast on eggs and bacon. That fucking song managed to follow him even down here in Florida, so far from L.A. It was practically everywhere these days, and he could not escape it, no matter how far he ran.

Stevie and her new song with Don Henley took the meaning of that one line from Silver Springs (“I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you”) to a whole new level, and Lindsey wasn't sure he could get through the entire song without punching a hole through a wall. He wasn't interested in whatever lovey-dovey nonsense those two managed to shove into their pop ballads.

It was lousy, corny and definitely too much for his nerves. As if those cheap clichey lyrics were not enough, the song was also musically mediocre, even for the casual listener that he was not, and its success on US Billboard was duly undeserved.

“I think it's cool that Stevie is having her hour in the sun with her solo album, no? She's been working so hard.” Carol Ann chimed softly, as she drank her morning tea with a stupid smile on her face. Buckingham looked at his girlfriend with a vicious glare, but he held back his tongue, not wanting to start fighting so early in the day, and most definitely not over Stevie, when Stevie herself was probably getting along very well with her amazing, prodigy musician of a boyfriend. She didn't deserve such satisfaction from him when things were already going so well for her.

He swallowed all the rage and the disgust alongside a big munch of scrambled eggs, making sure everybody in the hotel lounge knew that he was sorely annoyed as he did so. “You know what else would be cool?” He asked, wickedly mimicking his girlfriend's wide-eyed compliment, as he kept the mouthful on the left side of his face. “If she could work just as hard on the upcoming album with the band. It would be even cooler if she could show up at the studio every now and then, you know. But I guess nobody is telling you that when four of your singles hit the top positions on Billboard. She's the hot shit, as far as she knows, so who gives a damn about the other four losers in Fleetwood Mac, right?”

Carol Ann dropped her clueless gaze on her plate, still half-full. “But how is she supposed to do that with a tour on her hands? She'll join you guys when she's-”

“Just eat your damn food and let's leave. I don't wanna waste a single minute arguing about that tramp.” He flicked his hand to rush her, and then abruptly pushed himself to his feet, causing his chair to scrap the floor roughly. “We're going back to Los Angeles tonight.”

“What for? I thought you didn't wanna attend her solo tour celebration?”

He didn't even turn back to answer. What kind of question was that, anyway? Naturally, he would attend the party. He wouldn't miss the celebration for Stevie's first solo album's release, not for all the blow in the world. Lindsey had made it his precise mission to ruin it, in fact.

*

The flight back to L.A. had been a quiet one, with Carol Ann brushing his hand lightly from time to time, and him smiling back to her. He even leaned in for a few kisses every now and then. Save for the inconvenience in the hotel lounge that morning, their relationship had been thriving, and even the sex benefited from their mutual chemistry.

Lindsey kissed her brow, feeling seemingly guilty for how harsh he had been to Carol that morning, who was nothing but obedient and loving to him. And besides, if he wanted to show up at the Bella Donna party, he had to make sure that he and his girlfriend were on the best terms, so that Stevie and Don Henley couldn't have the upper hand in the obvious comparison that their common friends would make upon seeing both couples at the same party.

Lindsey had always been a schemer deep down and rilvalry, even when it was just self-perceived and nothing else, could bring out the worst of this life-long tendency.

At the airport, they were met by J.C., and a couple of other crew members. Lindsey wondered what they were doing there, considering they weren't expected to record that night. Or were they?

“How was Miami, eh? You lucky bastard!” J.C. jumped at his throat, enthusiastically punching his shoulder in a fit of wild camaderie. Lindsey laughed it off awkwardly, trying to play along with his friendly front, but actually more interested in knowing what the fuck was up. Carol Ann was already walking ahead with the same sound engineer that Chris had begun screwing at some point, but Lindsey paid them next to no mind, practically scuttling behind J.C. towards the limo that had come to pick them up. “Where are we going? I thought we had booked the top suite at the Chateau Marmont.” He asked the road manager, totally at loss as to what was going on here.

“Yeah, I know, but Stevie has showed up at the studio out of the blue, said she made time in her schedule just to be there, so the rest of the band came together for an unplanned recording session, and that's where we're heading.” J.C. made a show of being the unwilling bearer of ill tidings, but even a fool could see that he was in very good spirits, thrilled that Stevie would grace the rest of them with her presence, right when she was supposed to be on tour with the Eagles and the Heartbreakers.

Lindsey's face went red with rage, as he struggled to impose self-restraint on himself. He kept his peace, but the price of this apparent calm was impossibly high, as his foul mood took its toll on everybody who had the misfortune of sitting in the same vehicle as him. When Carol Ann learned of the unforeseen change of plans, at her slow usual pace, they were already three blocks away from the recording studio, but she started to complain just then, that she should have been informed sooner, that they were not puppets dancing to Stevie's tune, and every other truism that Lindsey had been trying hard to keep to himself.

“Lindsey?” Her wide, imploring eyes were pinned on Lindsey, obviously pleading for some back-up. “You tell them. This isn't-”

“The driver will take you back to the hotel once he drops us off. You can shower, grab something to eat, and-” His words might have sounded caring and affectionate to some unknowing ear, but really he was just instructing her on what exactly to do with her evening, until he'd be available to her again. The guitarist of Fleetwood Mac extracted his Gold MasterCard from his wallet, and rested it on her lap. “Go shopping for some clothes. I want you to look your absolute best tonight. I'll send J.C. to pick you up and I'll see you at the party. Alright?”

John Courage, who was present and listening to the exchange, did not object to that, but smiled pitifully in Carol Ann's direction, as if ashamed for being such a poor escort compared to her boyfriend. The woman didn't seem to mind at all, but instead let out an excited yelp and drew him in for a kiss, enthused that she would spend the rest of the evening with the part of Lindsey that she loved best; his credit card. (His dick and fingers were a close second, but she had got plenty of those in Florida already.)

Really, getting Carol Ann out of his way for some time alone with Stevie was precisely what he had been craving since he stepped down from the plane. They hadn't spoken to each other ever since they met up with Mick and the others four months ago, to discuss the concept behind “Mirage”, possibly their next album. Stevie just sat through the entire meeting locked in an unbearable dreamy haze that everyone else seemed to ignore. Everyone but Lindsey, clearly. He would have slapped her across the cheek, just so she could snap out of her dumb daydream and focus on the brainstorming session that was meant to inspire their next project. In the end he did no such thing, though, however tempting, and just told himself that in order to contribute to a brainstorming session, you would require a brain, first.

They had been working extra hard on this one; recording songs and rehearsing them and coming up with lyrics 'till late in the night (or early in the morning), but Stevie was too busy touring around the globe with two other bands to actually take any part in that. Lindsey hated how she was slipping away from him. It was bad enough that she was proving rather uncommitted to Fleetwood Mac, but the fact that she was beginning to rely on him less and less with each passing year was even worse. Things had taken a dramatic turn ever since Rumours, when she would come to him for advice and would sing about their relationship openly.

And now she was back in L.A., hosting a party to celebrate her successful Bella Donna tour without Fleetwood Mac, and still expected every single one of them to just drop everything they'd planned and jump at her orders. Mick had joked once that her album should've been titled Prima Donna, instead, and honestly, he hadn't been wrong.

When Lindsey opened the door to the studio, he saw that he was actually the last one to arrive. Everyone else was already there. Stevie was laughing heartily at something that Mick had said, but when she heard the door open, she turned in his direction, and he could see, not without a hint of satisfaction, that a portion of that amusement died on her lips just then.

Chris was smoking a blunt, despite all the restrictions and the warnings that would forbid smoking in the recording rooms, lest the devices be damaged. She offered him one too, but he declined. He knew he would need something much stronger in order to get through this, and he was saving himself for the party.

“How have you been?” Stevie asked, casually, and after a short awkward silence, as he was determined not to talk to her first. John threw Chris and Mick a knowing, concerned look, the kind of look that conveyed just how accustomed they were to the teenage drama that would unfold before their eyes in no time.

“Very well. Just came back from Florida. Needed a break from all this.” Lindsey explained, coldly and matter-of-factly, which was more than John and the others were hoping for. If those two could keep the conversation brief, civil and mostly centered on business, then they would all benefit from it and the rest of the night would go smoothly. But considering the rather cospicuous amount of booze and other substances that would circulate in their system in just a few hours from now, they were all aware that this blissful state of mutual indifference was as short-lived as it was appreciated.

“That's good...” Stevie commented, with a sort of circumstantial courtesy and a half-smile to match.

The conversation then drifted off, and John proceeded to give Stevie a heads-up, filling her in on the progress they'd achieved during her productive absence. In the end, things hadn't been too different from how they'd been during the making of the "White Album”. Stevie used to feel very lonely and disposable back then, when they were all working so hard on something that she took no part in, but now the tables had turned on them, and she was the one who had replaced them altogether. The fact that nobody addressed this “professional betrayal” or even seemed to hold Stevie accountable for it, vexed him beyond belief. Apparently, you were still allowed to undertake a solo career while still being in a band, or so everybody kept telling him. It's not that Lindsey didn't believe in pursuing a solo career while still being in a band. He just didn't believe that Stevie should be allowed to.

Chris proposed that they perform a few tracks for Stevie's ears alone, just the ones they had down already, namely Wish you were here, Hold me, and Can't go back. They were all Christine's, except the former one, that Lindsey had written himself. The proposal was met by great enthusiasm and Lindsey could do nothing but oblige and tag along, despite himself, so he went to grab his Gibson Les Paul from the wall, determined to give Stevie one hell of a show, if he was left no other choice.

He would sing his heart out to her here and now, so she'd be reminded of everything she had been missing.

Christine and the others played lazily, glossing over some of the lyrics, and teasing each other as they did so, but not Lindsey. He was determined to do this the proper way. He wanted to get his feelings through to her. The last thing he wanted was for any of the songs to sound sloppy, so that she would think they couldn't do any better than this without her. That couldn't be further from the truth, in fact. When they were done, Stevie ran to Chris and kissed her on the cheek, and the two women shared a long over-due, heart-felt hug, from which the men were awkwardly excluded.

“I'm sorry for-...” Christine's whisper was barely audible, and Lindsey couldn't catch up on the last part of it, no matter how much he strained his ears. Stevie brushed her brow against the taller woman's shoulder. “It is... a disaster, I still can't-...” She tried to restrain a sob. All of a sudden it was as if her brave and cheerful front had come undone, and she couldn't hold herself together any longer.

Were they talking about some possible fall-out between Stevie and Henley, that he was obviously unaware of? Lindsey warmly hoped so. He should have been happy to see Stevie utterly distraught over her dumbass of a boyfriend, but it also irked him just how much she cared for that asshole. Hell, he wasn't even sure that she was this upset when the two of them broke up, back in the day.

“Hey, Steph, how-” He approached them as soon as they broke the embrace and started to talk between themselves, almost under their breath. Christine flashed him an urgent, poignant glare as soon as she heard his voice. Her wide eyes and tight lips said what she was too polite to say herself.

 _Stay the fuck out of it,_ or something along those lines. Stevie said nothing to him, she just looked at him through wet, gleaming eyes, then her gaze dropped to the floor, and it almost broke his heart how vulnerable she looked, but it also angered him, that she was even wasting a single tear over that piece of shit.

He wanted to brag that he had told her so, maybe even gloat a little bit, but he knew that his chances of leaving that studio on his own two legs would have been very slim, if he attempted such thing in the presence of both Stevie and Christine. He was outnumbered, once again. But he still had plenty of time for making her feel like shit over whatever had happened between her and Don, at the very party where she was supposed to celebrate her indipendence from Fleetwood Mac, and from him.

“Hey Buck, leave the ladies to it and come over here a second. I wanna hear the bridge to Can't go back one more time, if you don't mind.” There went Mick, always trying to meddle, when in fact he had nothing to do with Stevie, not since she had dumped him too, just like she did with Lindsey himself once upon a time. He was tempted to tell Fleetwood to go to hell, but then again, Stevie and Christine were equally trying to get him to stay away, so he just searched for Stevie's erratic gaze and when he found it, he said: “I'll see you at the party tonight, alright?” It wasn't too different from what he'd told Carol Ann as well, but this time it sounded more like a threat than an actual invitation.

*

This was an extravagant party, even by Fleetwood Mac standards. Lindsey looked around, and he wasn't sure he even knew half of the people attending. Most of them were already wasted, their systems juggling with God knows how many different substances as they were either dry humping in some dark corner of the club or simply shaking uncontrollably on the dancefloor.

“Well shit,” was all he could say, as his eyes unconsciously began looking for Stevie in the midst of that maddened crowd, but as he was looking for her face to appear before him, he locked gazes with J.C. instead, and that's precisely when he was reminded of his girlfriend.

Lindsey pushed and pulled his way through the crowd of dancers, impatient to get to the tour manager's side and ask him where the fuck Carol was.

“Oh she was here with me just a minute ago,” Courage had to positively shout in order for his voice to overcome the loud music and the wild cheers all around and reach Lindsey's ears. “Don't worry though, she told me she'd come looking for you. She's probably at the open bar. Just chill, man, you need something to take the edge off.” Buckingham had no doubt that his own appalling face gave precisely that impression to whoever glanced upon it, but he had no time for that now. It's not that he meant to remain sober till morning, but the night was still young, and he would feel better about doing drugs only once he'd find Carol Ann. She was a light-weight, as much as Stevie, and couldn't be bothered to hold her alcohol, let alone blow. That was probably one of the similarities between the two women that had him fall head over heels for Carol. Nevertheless, he had to find her before she'd make a fool of herself, like she always did when she was left unsupervised for too long.

On the way to the open bar, he bumped into Mick and Sara, who barely acknowledged him, too busy hurling words at each other to notice him, of which he felt mostly grateful. He just squeezed himself between the fighting couple and walked past them as nonchalantly as he could manage.

Sara had probably caught him cheating again, Lindsey considered inwardly. _Big fucking deal_. Mick simply couldn't wrap his head around the mere concept of monogamy. The sooner Sara would understand that, the sooner her suffering would end.

In any case, Lindsey truly wasn't one to lecture anyone on monogamy, when he himself had come to this very party with the unspoken intention of fucking his ex girlfriend, as soon as his current girlfriend would pass out from over-drinking.

“Carol Ann,” he called out to her brusquely, when he finally spotted her, sloshing drinks all over the bar counter and chatting up strangers. She was wearing a short, silvery dress with rhinestones and all that sparkly shit that made her look like those reflective triangles positioned on the side of the highway to warn the drivers that a car crash was ahead. He could tell that she tried hard to look elegant and classy, approximately going for Stevie's “witchy” style, but failed miserably and only achieved to look tacky in comparison.

There was something about her that still quickened Lindsey's pulse, though. He found her sexy in her own way, like some sort of uncouth, disheveled version of Stevie that he could still dispose of, with the same blond hair and petite build as his ex, but somehow not as wild or unpredictable.

“Baby, there you are!” She squealed and threw her arms around his neck, nearly losing her precarious balance in the process. “I've been missing you. Do you like my dress?” Carol Ann asked quizzically, her gaze wandering too much, even though she and Lindsey were practically face-to-face.

His gaze dropped to her outlined breasts, the round shapes of which he could deduct without difficulty, considering how smooth and nearly translucent the fabric of the dress was.

“Are you drunk, already? It's not even 1 a.m.” He scolded her, annoyed that he would miss out on most of the party – and Stevie! – just to babysit his drunk girlfriend around the club now.

“I am not!? Don't be a downer, Linds, come on. You drink something too.”

“You better be on your best behaviour, or I'm sending you back at the hotel, okay? Don't make me repeat myself.”

“Alright, alright, baby. Don't be mad, please. Do you want to dance?” Lindsey was pondering whether he should dance with Carol or snort a line off the nearest horizontal surface first, when he finally saw who he came all this way to see. Stevie had finally manifested, in a smooth, dazzling dress of silk, shimmering like quicksilver. The alluring, pristine slit between her breasts was left bare by the v-cut fabric, which was unusual for her, considering how she loved over-dressing for every occasion. His jaw almost dropped at the sight of such angelic beauty, but he had to clench it once again when Tom Petty appeared at her side. Lindsey could almost walk away from that scene, and pretend that it didn't bother him, but then Don Henley stepped in the picture as well, and it was hell to see how close those two still were.

How could it be when just mere hours earlier Stevie was literally bawling her eyes out over him? Did they make up so damn fast? Then again, he wouldn't put it beneath Stevie to fuck things up with someone and then make people forgive her just as easily. He had been there too, more times than he'd care to admit.

“Oh, there's Stevie!” Carol Ann observed unnecessarily, and possibly an entire century after he and everyone else in the club had already noticed that she'd arrived. “Should we go and say hi?”

“Sure, why not.” He was very pissed off, and thus was feeling very brave, too.

He didn't exactly mean to tell her anything as of now – not that he could, anyway, right in front of Carol Ann. He wasn't feeling _that_ brave. But he would make her see that he and his younger model girlfriend were happier than ever, and of course, still together, unlike herself and her beloved Henley.

“Stevieee,” called out Carol Ann, slurring her words, as per. Stevie rolled her eyes a little bit at the sound of the Harris girl saying her name, or maybe Lindsey was just imagining it because he liked to witness the animosity Stevie felt for his current girlfriend, in spite of all of Carol Ann's naive and awkward attempts at friendship. Stevie still resented him for moving in with someone new so soon after their break-up, but he honestly couldn't make himself feel bad for the life of him. She had been the one to break up with him for good, so what right did she have to tell him just how fast he was allowed to get over her? None. Absolutely none.

“Hey. Lookin' beautiful, Carol.” Stevie cracked a very performative grin that could fool Carol Ann easily enough, but not Lindsey. She couldn't wait to get away from the two of them and it was plain to see for anyone who really knew her.

“Oh, come on!” Harris made a show of blushing, then elbowed her boyfriend in the side. “You look absolutely stunning, everybody's transfixed by you!” As always, Carol never missed a chance to one-up Stevie, not even when it came to casual mildly felt compliments.

The slightly older woman was ready to walk away from the couple with an awkward smile on her face, all the while pretending that somebody across the dancefloor had caught her attention and required her outright presence.

Lindsey was not going to let her off the hook so easily, though. He grabbed her upper arm when she was just about to walk past him without so much as a word, then leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Come to me when your boyfriend drinks himself stupid later, okay?”

Stevie looked at him with bewildered eyes. She didn't seem thrilled by the proposal. On the contrary, she looked nearly offended. That wasn't like her. No matter how much she loved her boyfriends, she never passed on a chance to be with him. Nobody fucked her like her first ex did, after all. He knew her body like the back of his hand, like his guitar. Or had that changed?

Something was definitely off with her tonight and he was determined to find out what it was.

“What did you tell her?” Carol Ann inquired, walking up to him from behind, dragging him out of his musings at once with her mere voice. She couldn't be so drunk all in all, if she was still able to tell that her boyfriend had spoken a few words under his breath to his ex girlfriend. He'd have to be careful around her or he'd never hear the end of it.

“Nothing, just that Jimmy Iovine was looking for her.” It sounded likely enough. That foul handsy excuse for a producer was bound to be looking for Stevie all over the club, beyond a doubt. Carol Ann seemed pleased by the answer he gave her, and took him by the hand. “Didn't we say we'd dance?”

*

Christine was sitting in the V.I.P area with her legs spread wide and a bucket in between them. Her eyes were unmoving, unfazed, with dark circles hanging just beneath them. She looked cool and composed even when she was drunk and high on more than one drug.

“Have you been throwing up?” Lindsey volunteered, disbelievingly, as he perfunctorily inspected the liquid contents of the bucket at her feet. She held her alcohol incredibly well, even better than John, who was always the heaviest drinker out of them all. That she would just throw up like she had been Stevie or something, was simply unconceivable.

“'m okay.” She said, simply. He was not even going to mention the fact that Mick was literally lying on the chaise longue, barely breathing, with a bottle of vodka on his chest and his mustache still stricken with white powder. He always ended up like that by 4 a.m. on a regular party night, so Lindsey decided he wouldn't worry about him right now. He had too much on his mind already.

“You don't look okay. Fuck, I cannot fucking believe I am the only one still mildly sober and lucid this late into the night. She's truly fucking me up.”

Christine McVie raised her head from the bucket, her empty eyes were barely visible under her bangs, but he could still tell she was reprimanding him just by how tight her lips were. “Maybe you should give her a break. Maybe she doesn't fucking want to see your face wherever she goes. This is her night, and you're ruining it for her by chasing her around the club. You don't even know what she's been through all these months.”

“Oh, really? You're really gonna give me this speech, Chris?” He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Maybe you should know the woman you're protecting before you even decide to side with her. I just saw her making out with a random off the dancefloor. And I bet you anything you want that her prince charming Henley doesn't have a clue, either.”

Chris pulled her hair back, rubbing her tired eyes as she shook her head. “Get over it, Linds. She's not yours anymore. What she does and with whom is none of your business... And fuck, I'd be fucking the pain away too with whoever was available if my best friend had died.”

Lindsey's eyes went wide. “What? What best friend? You can't mean... Robin?”

Chris looked down at her feet again, half regretting what she had said. The alcohol had truly done a number on her, considering she could normally keep secrets like a bank vault in Geneva.

Buckingham felt like a piece of shit. He couldn't forgive himself how unfairly hard he had been to Stevie ever since she came back from her solo tour, how he had stormed off the dancefloor beside himself with rage upon seeing her rubbing her arse against the crotch of a total stranger, when she was so drunk that she could barely stand on her own two feet without help.

“I- I must go to her.” was all he could bring himself to say, ashamed and scatter-brained as he was.

Chris was going to call him back, and tell him that it wasn't his place to do that anymore, that he and his new girlfriend had hurt her enough, and life was doing the rest. But she let her hand fall in her lap. It wasn't her place to meddle, either. Besides, she could tell from the half-crazed look on Lindsey's face that no force on earth could keep him from Stevie.

*

He found her just when he was about to give up and make his peace with the idea that she had let one of her boyfriends drive her home. He was seething at the mere thought, but seeing her in the parking lot behind the club, alone, brought a warm peace to his thundering chest in the blink of an eye.

She was sitting on the hood of a Mercedez like she owned it, trying to light up the stump of a blunt, and failing. Lindsey was even surprised that she got that far all on her own, considering the state she was in when he last saw her on the dancefloor. But this was Stevie. Just when everybody thought she would dig her own grave and jump in it, she somehow always managed to come back from the dead, stronger and harder, and more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.

“Hey.” When he said the customary word, mostly just to announce his presence, he realized that he had no idea what to say to her, how to comfort her, as he hadn't even had the time to rehearse anything in his mind. He just... went to her, as it seemed the only sensible choice at the time.

She looked up, annoyed, suspicious, her big bambi eyes reduced to two narrow slits.

“Oh, hey. _Carol_ was looking for you.” The spite that twisted her lips when she said _Carol_ didn't go lost on him. He would have smiled at that, maybe even let it get to his head, in another situation, at another time. Right now, he just wanted to take her in his arms and let her wall of passive aggressiveness crumble under the weight of his embrace.

“I'm sorry, I-... I was a dick. Have been for a while now. I just heard-... She...” His words came out weird, thin, like they weren't even his own. Was he truly apologizing to the woman he swore he'd never run back to ever again? Lindsey wanted to think that it was the alcohol in his bloodstream doing that to him, but not even the countless shots of vodka or the multiple Cuba Libre's could excuse the heartache he felt just looking at her.

“Spare me.” She raised her eyes to the heavens. Again, that passive aggressive attitude that had sabotaged their relationship and was now still threatening to ruin his attempt at closeness.

She would drive him mad one day. “Please, talk to me. It can be just like the old times if you let me in.” He was practically begging, and it didn't feel good, his ego suffered a great deal for it, but at least it felt liberating. He felt like he was finally allowing himself something that had been specifically forbidden to him for a long time.

“Go back to your little girlfriend and leave me the fuck alone, maybe, will you?”

Why did she keep bringing Carol back into this? He was here, wasn't he? He was here for her and her alone. As a matter of fact, he didn't even know where Carol was at present. He didn't necessarily care. All he wanted was for Stevie to open up and talk to him, let him in, maybe weep in his arms, even, let it all out, all the rage and the grief and the misery of the past months, forgotten.

“I know how much you loved Robin... I had no idea, I-”

“Linds...” She inhaled sharply, her lower lip trembling like a wounded pup on the street. It sent a jolt of pure pain through his chest, but he didn't waver. He just stepped towards her, wrapped his arms around her small shoulders and for the first time in months, he truly realized how thinner she had grown. He could see the weight loss of the past months on her since he had first laid eyes on her at the studio, but feeling the dim consistency of her small body between his arms now was heartbreaking.

“Shh, it's okay.” No sooner was he done pacifying her, that she outright started sobbing and crying against the fabric of his shirt. Why wasn't Henley here? Lindsey knew he ought to be grateful that the man was out of the way, but he couldn't help feeling that Stevie deserved a boyfriend who would be there for her instead of snorting coke with strippers and groupies in the V.I.P. sleaze. She deserved so much better than those losers she kept wasting her time with. He understood full well this was no time for reminding her of her partner's faults, though.

“It's so... so fucking unfair. I never got to say goodbye.” Stevie let the tears stream down her cheeks freely now, fearless and well beyond shame, the grief overcame her completely. Snot was running down her nose and her eyes were clouded and teary, but Lindsey didn't care. He just whispered sweet nothings against the crown of her head, to soothe her. “I was too busy being on that stupid, stupid tour that cost me my best friend! If, if only I-”

Her squealing came out strained, like she was out of breath and yet still desperately trying to get something out. She began tripping on her words, mind racing too fast for her tongue, rendered sluggish from the blow and the booze.

“You did good, Steph. Better than any of us, in fact. She would be proud.” He murmured softly, as he slowly distanced her from his chest, all so she could look at him in the eye and know that he truly meant what he said. That, yes, he had been jealous and petty for what she had achieved all on her own, but that he truly was proud of her, and Robin would be too, if she could see her.

Stevie dried her own tears with the sleeve of the coat she had thrown over her silvery mini dress, as she struggled very hard to pull herself together and regain a little composure.

“What can I do? Anything, I'll do anything.” Lindsey pleaded, helplessly, a cruel surge of guilt still eating at him from the inside.

“Take me home.” She mumbled, tentatively. She didn't want to sound too assertive or demanding. She mostly didn't want to be let down again after getting her hopes up about him for the hundredth time. He had a girlfriend he loved and she knew it. Messing around in the backstage and dressing rooms occasionally was one thing, but what she was asking of him now was something else entirely.

“'Course. Anything you want.”

They took a cab, not bothering to go back inside and look for J.C., to tell him to fetch the limo. Also, this would spare them all the questions on why ever the two of them would be going home together instead of going back to their respective partners.

“Anyway... Don and I broke up. We still show up at parties and autograph signings together but it's just to promote the single on Bella Donna. We've been done for a while. We're still friends, though.” Stevie explained, in a meek and monotone voice. She wasn't exactly happy of what she was relating, but at least it was the truth, and it had weighed on her heart for a while.

Lindsey looked away from her and out of the car window on purpose, desperately trying to hide the silly inappropriate smile on his lips.

“I see.” He tried to sound as untouched by the whole thing as he could, but the loud thumping of his hopeful heart made him feel like a schoolboy all over again. Only she had the power to awaken such strong and foolish reactions in him and he had long resigned himself to being completely helpless in her sway. He reached out for her hand across her lap, and laced his fingers with hers for the rest of the ride.

When they finally got to Stevie's apartment, Lindsey's head was swimming. He had expected to fuck her that night, after the party, but he certainly hadn't expected this sudden level of connection with her. Something within him clicked and he felt sorely unprepared. It had been so long since he bared his heart to her. It had been just sex between them for the past year and a half, and utter indifference for the past months, but this... they hadn't had _this_ in a while. Probably since before their final break up.

He sat on the edge of her queen size with his hands between his legs, no idea what to do with them whatsoever. Would she even want to fuck him after all she had been going through? She seemed willing enough with the strangers back at the club. Lindsey willed the thought away, as it was unworthy of him, and unfair to Stevie. When she emerged from the bathroom, she wore nothing but a loose robe of black satin, dark circles under her eyes fully visible now that she had removed her make up. She looked worn out, spent, yet indecifrably captivating, lost, haunting.

God, how he wanted her. But he wasn't about to give himself away that easily.

“Now what?” He sat back and took in the full sight of her. The placid, daring look in his eyes seemed to hint at the fact that it was her move now, her choice. All he had to do was wait and act on her every whim.

“What is it, Buckingham? Afraid you'll break me if you screw me?” She mocked his indeciveness with her cruel grin, and it sent a rush of blood to his head, equal parts rage and desire.

“Is that why you brought me here? To fuck me?” He made a show of sounding offended, but he wasn't, really. He was throbbing at the prospect of having her under him, begging for more. But the truth was he knew her too well. He knew she used sex to feel something, anything, to relieve the pain that not even drugs or alcohol could take away, and this time it was no different.

How could he take advantage of that vulnerability and live with himself afterwards?

“You go to bed. I'll sleep on the couch.” He resolved, turning his back on her luscious, albeit thin, body and cursing himself a thousand times for it. He knew this night would come back to haunt him the next time he'd crave her but she'd be far away from him, with who knows whom.

“What?” She cackled mercilessly, as if the clueless victim of a poor jape. “You're trying to stay loyal to Carol Ann?”

“Stop. This isn't about her. You're a mess, you're hurting. I can't do this to you.” Lindsey had warmly hoped he wouldn't have to spell it out for her, but as a matter of fact, Stevie had made that inevitable with her heartless accusations.

“Listen to yourself! Speaking as if you weren't the one who followed me all the way across town like a wretched stray, begging me to take you home with me. You're pathetic, and whipped, not even half the man Don is!”

He tried to keep his peace. He knew he had to just grab his coat and get the fuck out of there, for she was raving, the alcohol and the grief making her say crazy things, but she could truly be a bitch when she wanted, and she had definitely struck a nerve there.

Lindsey was on her in a moment, pinning her against the wall, holding her down by the neck. “What did you just say, you bitch?! Just try to say that again.” His only free hand was already working to unzip his pants and pull down her panties with one brusque swift motion.

“I said that you-” Stevie sucked in her breath then, the sharp pain coming from her cunt silenced her at once. She wasn't wet, she wasn't ready, yet he had entered her with such force all the same.

“Shut the fuck up. You wanted this, now you'll be a good girl and take it.”

The pain was twisting her face, but she didn't push him away. In fact, she only drew him in, closer. She had missed this closeness, this raw contact between their scorching bodies, where they both united and melded. If anything in the world could heal her broken heart, it was this.

The sharp painful friction soon softened, as her inner walls began to wet with each thrust, for which she was grateful. Lindsey gripped her face in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “Did he fuck you this good, huh? Did he?”

Stevie shook her head without taking her eyes off him. She was hypnotized by this man. It wasn't even just the sex. She could have, and did have, the sex with anyone. It was the way he could own her, steady her, when she felt so powerless, formless, utterly taken by the wind. He was the solid, dark substance that kept her earth-bound when the rest of her wanted to take flight and dissolve into nothingness. He knew how to take her home, in more than one sense, but she wouldn't tell him that. Not tonight, not while he was fucking her so good.

“Lindsey, I'm going to-” She yelped in a frantic cry. He knew exactly what she meant, and he waited for her to be done with her own climax, before he let himself empty his seed inside.

When his own legs gave away beneath him after the climax, he began to see it was actually a bad idea doing it upright, against the wall. He carried her to the bed, quietly, positioning her under the coverlets like a doll. She would turn into one, if she didn't gain some weight at once.

“I-...” Lindsey had his back against the tufted headboard, lucidity slowly coming back to him. “I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have-”

“Can you hold me, please?” She asked in a low whisper, barely audible, and he knew he shouldn't have obliged to her every request with such speed, but he promptly laid down next to her and spooned her, folding all of her in the crook of his torso. He inhaled the scent of her hair, honey and wildflowers, the two sides of her that were permanently at war.

“What would you have me do? With Robin... I mean. She had a son, my godson, too.”

“I don't... know?” He felt taken aback. He just wasn't expecting this depth of insight and trust so soon, not after the rough intercourse that had just taken place. But then again, it had always been like this with Stevie. A never ending roller coaster. All things considered, he wouldn't want it any other way. “She'd probably want you to take care of the child for her. You know, that's likely why she chose you as his godmother.”

Stevie nodded, staring into the still darkness that embraced them both. “I think I know what to do to make it all better. Thank you, Linds.” She sounded peaceful, calm, finally at peace and Lindsey drew a breath of relief.

“Stevie, I-” He muttered in her golden curls. There was so much he wanted to tell her. He and Carol Ann had been talking marriage lately, and yet he couldn't stop thinking about his ex, his mind went back to their past relationship whenever the topic would come up between himself and his girlfriend. All he wanted was for Stevie to talk him out of it, to just tell him that he was out of his sane mind if he seriously thought that he could be happy with any woman who wasn't her.  
But he couldn't really ask that of her now, could he? He couldn't risk throwing her off balance now of all times. Not after everything that had happened between them, not with Robin dead, her solo career taking flight and a new album in the making... He just hushed, and let Stevie's steady breathing lull him to sleep.


	4. And it all comes down to you (pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirage Era. Stevie goes through with her plan of marrying Robin's husband. Lindsey doesn't take it too well. Their differences erupt in an abrasive fight, as Fleetwood Mac is on the verge of hitting the road again. Part 2 will follow.

John sat in a dark corner of the studio with the AC40 on his knee. He strummed the early notes of “Love in Store” in a rather melancholy fashion that did not really befit the song. These days he barely left the venue at all, and ate most of his meals in the adjoining room. Stevie looked at him from behind the laminated screen. She came all the way here from her condo specifically to listen to herself, to make sure that her vocal cords wouldn't play a number on her right before the tour would start, especially after... _well_ , Robin.

She didn't expect to find anyone in the recording studio, not on a Saturday evening, but John was there before she even arrived, and thankfully, he didn't ask any questions on her own personal reasons to needlessly overwork herself like she did. He just smiled, asked her if she minded his presence, and then proceeded to tune his bass guitar as if she wasn't even there.

Stevie liked John; the quiet, knowing, warmth of his dark eyes, the reassuring steadiness that he radiated just by being there. He was not unlike a big brother to her, in ways that Mick could never be, for obvious reasons.

“How was it?” Stevie inquired in a disheartened sigh, and nearly one hour since she and John had talked to each other. She did not feel good, or even passable, for that matter. She just felt a disappointment, and was half-hoping that John would talk her out of that funk. It was rather unlikely though, that anyone could manage such feat.

“It was... uhh...” He cracked a crooked fatherly grin that filled Stevie's heart with tenderness and shame. Yeah, she was not in it today, but she could still get better. She had it in her, somewhere, she just needed to work it out, and that was precisely what John was telling her without words. He knew how to be honest without the need for harshness, and that was what she loved best about him. It was something he shared with Christine, and Stevie had always wondered how on earth those two hadn't managed to make it work, with all their grown-up's wisdom and diplomacy.

They weren't exactly like herself or Lindsey, always pouncing at each other's throats, ready to draw blood and revel in the aftermath of the butchery.

“Let's call it a day, yes? I haven't seen the sunlight in a while. I'm freakin' out the staff here.”

That was truly rich coming from him, considering that he was the one who had literally forgotten to live in order to work on the album. Which was rather unusual and also unnecessary, to be honest, considering how Lindsey was singlehandedly producing the whole project, and had required no further help from the senior members. Even on the off chance that Mr. Wonderful couldn't do it all by himself, there was still Mick, ready to provide for whatever his younger bandmate couldn't get right, which rendered John's efforts all but unneeded.

Stevie nodded anyway, willing to overlook all that for the sake of not getting in the way of John's escapism.

“How's Julie Ann?” Stevie made herself ask, as the longer that silence lingered, the more she feared that John would ask about her loss. He wasn't very talkative or nosy, but he would probably still mention it in passing out of sheer courtesy, and she did not have the stomach for it tonight.

“She's well, spending some time with her folks. Can't blame her. I've not really been... around lately, with the tour coming up and all.”

Stevie tilted her head, half amused, half concerned. That was a very diplomatic way to put it. The truth was that he had been neglecting his marriage altogether, continuing to indulge in heavy drinking and a lonesome life, between the studio, the road and his sailing at sea. But she wasn't about holding that lifestyle against him right now. At least he was not cheating? Which was more than anyone else in Fleetwood Mac could say.

Stevie just shrugged with connivance, like she understood how he felt, and even if she didn't, she still wanted him to think that she did. “We're musicians, aren't we?”

That was usually the entire extent of their conversation. It never went beyond that, but this time Stevie couldn't let it end like that. She hadn't expected to see him, but since he was there anyway, she decided that she would tell him first.

“I- uhh... I haven't really told anyone yet, but I am going to marry Kim. Was wondering if you would... you know, come to the wedding. It's gonna be just a few intimates, anyway. No big deal.”

John looked at her from behind thin dubious eyes. She felt like a child whenever he would look at her like that, and she was nearly tempted to go back home and pretend she never said anything.

The decision had been rash, difficult and mostly a secret. It would all come to light in the end, she knew, which was precisely why she was starting off on the right foot by telling John first.

He could have told her a dozen of unpleasant things, made a bunch of judgemental remarks. Instead he just pondered for a while, like he hadn't just been told that she was marrying her dead best friend's widower at all. Stevie held her breath. The last thing she wanted was for John or anyone to question her about it because if they did, she knew it would be enough to make her waver and she wasn't sure that she could handle spiraling back into that uncertainty and guilt, now of all times.

Thankfully, John did no such thing, and just said, “When is it? I'll make sure to be free.”

*

The longer Christine stared at her beaten down face in the mirror, the more she grew convinced that she was getting too old for this party-all-night shit. She could be trusted to hold her alcohol and drugs, that was beyond a question, and yet the signs were all there. Her skin blemished by the smoke and the drug abuse, her eyes a little bit dimmer every day that went by.

Her song-writing benefited greatly from it, or so she liked to think, but the rest of her was literally rotting. Whatever. She wouldn't let Mick drag her back into it tonight or any other night, for that matter.

She would spend the entire day dallying in the garden, by her own personal swimming pool, sun-bathing and reading and forgetting what a Fleetwood Mac even is. Lindsey had the entire album down already, and this time he had taken special care of producing it all by himself – partly because he wanted to show everyone else that he could do it, in fact, and partly because he wanted to rob Stevie of the satisfaction of sleeping with whomever they'd choose as their next producer. From the way he had laughed out loud at his own joke, anyone could have seen that he was especially pleased with himself. His appalling manners and arrogance were enough to get anyone permanently kicked out of the band, but since he was such a brilliant masterful guitarist _and_ producer, they let him get away with nearly anything. Unbearable.

In any case, having a perfectionist trouper like Lindsey in the band could come in handy when you needed a day off from the industry bullshit, and just wanted to relax out in the sun.

She was thinking just that, when her house phone rang. She went to answer it dragging her feet, unwilling and distrustful. Whoever it was, they were certainly looking to trouble her on her hard-won day off. She wasn't even gonna answer, but for some reason she was getting this gut feeling, telling her that she should have caught that particular call. John was on the other end. Christine could tell it was him just by the way his breath came, as she still waited for him to speak first.

“Hey.” He said heavily, as if it had costed him a great fatigue to do so.

Chris took to fingering the curly phone wire nervously. It wasn't like her to be so nervous over one silly phone call from her ex husband and current bandmate, but something in the way he sounded today didn't let her rest. “What is it?”

“How are you?”

“I was okay, until you rang. In case you forgot, I can tell when trouble's brewing.”

“Well, you're gonna hate what's coming next then.” John humoured her, even though his voice was still low and sad.

“Tell me it's not about the album, or the tour, or Lindsey presumptuously trying his hand at producing, or Stevie demanding to have one more of her songs on the A-side, please. I do not have the energy for that right now.” She all but begged to be spared such drama, albeit a consistent and sensible part of her knew that whatever John had to say, would inevitably impact the band. It was always about the band. He'd never go out of his way to call her on a day off if it wasn't about the band, so she kinda resigned herself to that notion and just hoped that John would at least get to it as soon as possible.

“Nay, the kid has got it all under control. He and Mick are gonna make us richer than ever, and we won't even know how it happened. Makes you feel a little useless, doesn't it?”

“Did you bother me on my day off just so you could go on about your mid-life crisis, old man?” Christine almost wished she was right and that was really all it was. John getting lonely and insecure, being cut off like that by two of his younger bandmates. It could happen even to the best ones. She could deal with that. She could deal with anything that John threw at her as long as it wasn't about the same old teenage drama that periodically threatened to end their careers.

“Stevie is getting married. I think you're the only one who could talk some sense into her.”

Chris almost let the phone drop. It was worse than even her nightmares. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it didn't need to be so bad. Maybe Stevie and Lindsey had finally decided to cut the bullshit and be real with each other. They didn't need another failed marriage in Fleetwood Mac, to be sure, but maybe they'd be luckier than she and John had been. She truly, deeply wanted to believe that.

“... Wha- with Lindsey?”

“Kim Anderson. Robin's hus-”

“I know who Kim Anderson is. God...”

A long tense silence followed, during which Christine rubbed the bridge of her nose with her free hand and abandoned her hopes of ending the day without a sore headache.

“You should talk to her, Chris. She's in shambles after what happened to Robin... She thinks she sees things, knows things... You know how she's always sort of believed in that mystical bull of hers.” John sounded rather involved, which came as a surprise to her. He never got himself involved in that sort of stuff. Maybe his mid-life crisis was worse than she thought.

“That mystical bull was always part of Stevie's charm, anyway. That's the reason she sells so well, and better than any of us combined.” There was no envy in her words, just acknowledgement and respect for the other woman. John sighed, and even if Chris couldn't see him, she still visioned him looking away from her imaginary self, like he always did when somebody was intentionally missing the point he was trying to make.

“And consider this, John: we're not her parents.” She added. “We're her bandmates, colleagues, we make music together, we make money together, nothing more. She's not a child to be told what to do, for God's sake. I wish you and Lindsey would understand that.” Christine's voice was beginning to shake from rage now, although she made a faint effort to keep it well concealed. John – and anyone, really – knew that this was the warning sign of all warning signs, and the most convenient moment to exit the conversation as well, before it could get worse.

“You really think this is about her? This is about all of us. If she goes down, we go down too. Not to mention... for Pete's sake, Chris. What if Lindsey leaves the band after this?”

Chris snorted, even though she was not amused by far. “He won't. Law and Order did well but not that well... Certainly not like Stevie's Bella Donna. He knows that. Stevie knows that. Everybody knows that. If he still wants to afford his cars, midnight overseas flights, and every single rock on Carol Ann's fingers, he knows he has to stay in Fleetwood Mac, in spite of all the bad blood between us.”

“You're being unfair to the kid. He's not Mick.”

“Not yet, maybe.”

Another silence followed, until John felt Chris grow restless again, and spoke before she could hang up on him. “So you're not gonna talk her out of it?”

“Absolutely not.” She replied, dryly. “And also, you're probably worrying over nothing. What's the worst thing that could happen, anyway? Lindsey would just marry Carol to get at Stevie. Think of the great songs they would both make out of this.”

John smiled, in spite of how dire the situation was. “I never figured you'd be so cutthroat. I was always under the impression that you had a soft spot for her.”

“I do. She's a good girl, and doesn't deserve half the shit that she's put through. But she is her own person, and doesn't need a saviour. If she thinks that marrying this guy is the right thing to do then, well... We're not gonna contradict her. Mick probably thought it was a bad idea for us to marry back in the day... and we definitely thought the same about him moving in with Sara. I know I did. But did any of us try to stop anyone from making the worst mistake of their life? No, we didn't. We just don't do that.”

“I don't think that marrying you was the worst mistake of my life... if that matters.” John's voice exuded tenderness laced with regret, and Chris didn't like how that made her feel. Not in the least. It would be hard to shrug _that_ off with her usual sarcasm. Hard, but not impossible. “You're right. Allowing me to stay in the band after the divorce was the worst mistake of your life.”

“I didn't _allow_ you, I-” John let the protest die in his throat, flustered. Chris was far from dumb, but she liked to play dumb and dense when she was beginning to feel too exposed for comfort, and there was really no use in explaining to her what she had already fully understood, but would never willingly admit.

“I'm sorry about your day off.” He sighed, resigned. “I hope it's still salvageable.”

“It will be if this stays well out of Lindsey's earshot. Do you wanna come over, though?”

*

“Busy guy your boyfriend, uh?” Mick's snide was particularly sharp today, as it was directed to none other than Carol Ann Harris. The blonde woman shrugged absent-mindedly, too focused on painting her toenails to pay him any mind. Fleetwood's patience wore thinner with each passing minute that Lindsey didn't show up at his apartment. On top of that, Carol Ann didn't seem all the fun that he had predicted her to be.

“I thought ol' Buck could afford to send you to some beauty salon, or something. Can't believe he lets you do that on your own.” Mick looked down on her, bewildered and slightly freaked out, like he had never seen a grown woman painting her own toenails.

Carol Ann let out a small shrill chuckle. “Oh no, I really don't want strangers touching my feet. I'm very weird about that.”

“Well, now, that's new. You have lovely feet.” Mick wasn't sure whether he was intently flirting or just super bored. He tended to not always know the difference. It was true that he had fantasized about Carol Ann multiple times in the past, and that he had already had an affair with Lindsey's woman before... What ever prevented him from doing it again? Certainly not Carol Ann, who looked easy and accessible enough if one only bothered to try.

He just wasn't in the mood for it right now, though. Besides, he had come all this way to tell Lindsey that his ex was getting married, not to fuck his girlfriend.

“Oh, stop! They're really not. Did you know that I always keep them covered when I model? It's practically written on my contract.”

Mick smiled knowingly, like he cared a fig what the fuck she had written on her contract. She went on and on about modeling, and all the weird things you had to specify before signing up for a job, or you'd basically find your beach photoshoot on adult magazines without even knowing how.

Mick had grown so fed up with her endless ranting that he had begun to entertain half a mind of fucking her just to shut her up.

“I should... probably come back some other day.” He said at the first chance he was given to interrupt her, wondering how the fuck Lindsey could put up with that woman for longer than 5 minutes.

“Oh, you're going already? I don't think Linds should be long by now. Why don't you fix yourself a drink while you wait?”

“No, I- I'd better get going.” He would have loved seeing the look on Lindsey's face when he'd learn that Stevie was marrying her best friend's widower, but in that moment he just decided that having Carol Ann deliver the news directly to him instead would definitely sting more. “It was nothing important anyway.”

“What was it about? Maybe I can tell him.” She smiled heartfully, her eyes brimming with interest and the spark of eagerness.

“Oh, yeah, maybe... That would be lovely of you. It's, you know, Stevie asked me to deliver an invitation. Clearly, you're invited as well.”

“That's great! Wasn't her birthday in May, though?”

“Yeah, no, this time it's her wedding.”

*

When Lindsey came back home, several hours after Mick had left, he found Carol Ann in a positive state of utter ecstasy. Her starry eyes and rosy cheeks and toothy smile worked a strange effect on him. She was hardly ever unhappy or upset – unlike somebody else that he used to date, a long time ago, – but _this_ , well, this was a sight to see even by her light-hearted standards. She didn't beam so brightly not even when he allowed her to use his credit card _almost_ without limitations.

He let his light jacket fall on the couch without really thinking about what he was doing, but no sooner had it dropped from his hands, that Carol Ann immediately ran to his side to pick it up and hang it on the wall-mounted coat rack in the entryway.

His surprise threatened to have him faint on the spot when he went to the kitchen and found that dinner had already been cooked and laid out on the table, beautifully. He looked up to his girlfriend with wide eyes and a confused half-smile. “Did you make this?”

“No, silly. I ordered it, so we could eat together and share the day's news. It just came through the door, it should still be warm.” Carol Ann chuckled, resting a light kiss on his cheek. Well, she was never exactly the housewife type, and he was grateful that she had the good sense to call the delivery rather than overestimating her own cooking skills and trying her hand at it, only to miserably fail and ruin their dinner. She was radiating and beautiful and insanely hot tonight. He never wanted to bend her over the table more, and fuck her before they even had dinner.

“Babe? This is lovely. Are we celebrating something?” He asked uncertainly. Carol Ann wasn't very vengeful or scheming. She wouldn't stage all this only to rub in his face a forgotten anniversary or some other fucked-up shit like that. Again, she was not Stevie, and once again he found himself most grateful for it.

“Hmm... Yes and no. But tell me about your day first!” She sat across of him, as she started to eat what was in her plate. Italian bolognese pasta or something. It looked delicious and Lindsey was starving, so he took a spoonful too, before he'd start to talk. He was slowly letting himself relax around her. This was no mind game, this was just the universe's way of telling him: _you're a good man and you deserve a lovely girlfriend to take care of you_.

Or that's what Stevie would have said in her stupid wishful thinking, always attaching bigger meanings to trivial things that had no reason behind them at all. Whatever. Who gave a damn what Stevie thought anyway?

“Oh, you know, the usual. I've been checking in with the sound engineers and the other guys for the final touch-ups on the album. Also, Jimmy Iovine rang me at the studio and asked me if I wanted to meet for any heads-up on the producing stuff, but I told him I had it under control and stood him up. I hate the guy's guts. Thinks he's some bloody messiah.” He spoke intently and vehemently, between mouthfuls of pasta and red wine. Carol listened to him attentively, nodding from time to time, and agreeing wholeheartedly with his dislike of Jimmy Iovine, even though he had never done anything wrong to her personally. He even struck her as a funny character, on the few occasions that they met. She, clearly, couldn't even begin to imagine that the reason for Lindsey's hatred of the man was only partly professional. Most of it was due to the fact that he had been the one to produce Stevie's first solo album, and that the two had fucked during said production.

It was not his problem anymore, though. That was on her conscience, considering she was still dating Henley at the time.

“You're so good, baby, I bet it's gonna come out great! They won't know what hit them.” Carol was not always his cup of tea, with her strange ideas and light-headed demeanour, but she did know how to get him all pumped up. It was good having somebody who believed in him and openly so.

He had barely finished his dinner, but he had enough of it already. All he wanted now was to take her to bed and end the day on a bright note. “I couldn't do any of it without you, love... What do you think, should we go upstairs?” Lindsey purred, as his hand reached for Carol Ann's across the table. His pants were already tenting between his thighs. He had completely forgotten that perhaps he should have asked about her own day before he even put forth the suggestion of going to bed. She did say something about having some news of her own, probably, but that was basically erased from his mind as soon as she had said it.

“In a moment, honey... I do have something to share, as well! Remember?”

“Oh, yeah, sure...” He pretended to remember something that his brain had very likely never even registered. “You aren't pregnant, are you?” Lindsey laughed out loud, visibly stressed. He knew that couldn't be it, but still... What could someone like Carol Ann possibly have to say with such urgency?

“Come on, don't be silly! This is very serious.” Carol Ann made a show of scolding him, even though she didn't really mean it. Nothing he did or said tonight could seriously ruin her mood. She was on cloud nine and even though he had no idea why yet, he was certain that he would benefit from it very soon. Carol stood to her feet and went sitting on Lindsey's lap. He pulled her in brusquely for a kiss. “As serious as it can be... You can always tell me later.” His hand reached in between her thighs, but she mockingly slapped it away. “Baby! Jeez! Don't you wanna know why Mick was here today?”

Lindsey's eyes snapped open immediately, as he retreated his hand and finally started paying attention to his girlfriend's words. “Mick was here today? Why on earth? He didn't try anything with you, did he?” His rage was already building up to his neck. He didn't actively hate Mick for sleeping with his ex girlfriend (or he would have to hate nearly every man in the industry, even the ones he'd never met) but the experience clearly taught him that Mick couldn't be trusted anywhere alone with a woman, and he certainly wasn't very keen on having Carol Ann in the same room as him, unsupervised.

“Oh, don't make that face! It's good news, I promise.” She cackled, rocking on his knees like a cosseted child. “He was here to invite us to the wedding!”

Lindsey rolled his eyes, relieved that this was all he came for. “Oh, he's finally taking the big step with the Recor girl, eh? He's gonna make her absolutely fucking miserable, mark my words.”

Carol Ann laughed in his shoulder like she was privy to a joke that was obviously beyond Lindsey's comprehension. “Nooooo... You'd never guess.”

“What do you mean?” He smiled cluelessly, trying to pry the truth from her with his inquisitive, wary glare.

“It's not his and Sara's wedding! He was here on behalf of... somebody else.” She was evidently enjoying this, cherishing a secret that would undoubtedly interest Lindsey, something that she knew and that he didn't... It didn't happen often, thankfully, because Lindsey fucking hated it on the spare occasion that it did happen.

“Who, then? Don't tell me... Chris and John taking their shot at it for the second time? I had no idea he had divorced Julie Ann, though. That's a damn shame.” The prospect of those two remarrying would be unlikely enough, but it was still more believable than... No, he couldn't even think about it. It was simply unconceivable.

“Nope, wrong again! It's Stevie's weddiiiin'!” She finally blurted out the name like it was burning on her tongue and she couldn't hold it in a moment longer. Lindsey snorted at first, determined not to let that stupid joke get under his skin. He was looking for any sign that it was a joke in Carol's expression, ready to call bullshit on her any moment now. But no such sign ever came.

“What? Is it real?” He asked at last, utterly at loss.

“Yes!”

He didn't hear a single word of what Carol said next. His mind was in a whirlwind, a dozen names running through his head at a dizzying speed. _Who_ was his first and main question. _Why_ , the second. Henley was the candidate he leaned most towards. He was Stevie's most recent significant other, and she did mention him a lot during interviews even after it was over between them. Some of it was to promote the Bella Donna album and single... But even Lindsey could tell that some of it was real. The man had been important to her.

She had also said that they were nothing but friends, though. _Fucking bitch_.

“Baby? You okay? You've gone pale...” Carol Ann was staring at him with concern in her big eyes, and suddenly he hated that. He hated being stared at like he was the mad one here when it was so apparent that everybody else had been going under, and that he was the only sound one in Los Angeles, California, tonight. “Yeah, m'okay... Uh? What were you saying?”

“I said... She and Kim are going to get married? They must have grown kinda close during the mourning, I guess.”

Lindsey racked his brain, trying to remember if he had done any particular drugs in the past hours, and if there was any chance that this could be just some fucked up number that the blow was playing on his overly-excited mind. Perhaps he had already overdosed and this was hell. “Yeah, very close, indeed.”

He abruptly pushed himself to his feet, shoving Carol Ann off his lap. She stumbled and nearly fell. “What the-?!”

“Imma head out. Don't wait for me.”

“Lindsey! I swear, if you walk out of that door, I won't be here when-”

The front door had already been slammed on its hinges by the time Carol Ann could finish that sentence.

*

“This is bullshit. Bullshit. This is some fucked up bullshit they're pulling on me, I tell ya.” Lindsey was mumbling to himself in a low hiss, as he drove well past the speed limit on the highway. His fingers clicked rhytmically on the steering wheel, his eyelids hardly batting, a vein visibly pulsing on his temple.

If this was one of Mick's attempts to drag him in the dirt and have a good laugh behind his back, it would be the last laugh that he'd ever breathe, Lindsey promised himself this much.

Then he froze, as a sudden flash of a memory rose from the back of his mind. The last time they had slept together, Stevie had asked him what she should do with Robin's son, and... fuck, he couldn't even remember what he had advised her to do back then, exactly, but marrying the kid's father sure as hell wasn't it.

Lindsey could still recall how peaceful and quiet she had grown at some point, after they had that conversation... He had been under the impression that she was simply all fucked out, but in her dumb scattered mind she had somehow come to the realization that she should marry the widower that her best friend had left behind. As per usual, Stevie fucking Nicks saw things that were not there, and willed them into existence. She liked to call it witchcraft, or sight, but Lindsey knew better. It was nothing short of blind madness and if he could slap it off her mind, he would have done so long ago.

His train of thought came to a halt when he found himself in Stevie's driveway. He had driven all the way to her house relying almost exclusively on muscle memory.

He didn't even bother locking the car, he practically ran to her door and began pushing the button on the door bell like he intended to smash it. When she ultimately showed up on the door, she looked resentful and bewildered at once, like someone who's been caught red-handed.

They hadn't met outside of work in a while. She had been keeping away from the party scene after Robin's death, and Lindsey had been doing pretty much the same, devoting himself almost completely to the album they were all supposed to work on.

Lindsey kept his flaming eyes on her, his nostrils all but flaring. Stevie held his gaze, though her lips trembled, like they always did when she felt insecure. It was enough to give Lindsey the impression that he had the upper hand on her this time.

“Listen, I-... I was going to tell you.”

“You shut up and listen to me!” Lindsey rounded on her, then massaged his temples, breathed heavily through his nose and proceeded to muster whatever calm he still possessed. “You're gonna regret this. No, I mean it. You are doing a big mistake. Big mistake. This is worse than Mick or Henley or anyone you've ever shagged. That's your dead best friend's fucking husband, you absolute wreck!”

Stevie, who was feeling rather meek and guilty at first, was easily lured into a state of scorn and rage by the sudden cut of those abrasive accusations.

“You know what? I was gonna try to reach out to you and explain why I'm doing this, what I know and see... But I just realized I don't have to do that. You wouldn't understand shit anyway. You have already decided to antagonize me, like you always do, so you don't deserve a piece of my mind, alright? Just leave me the fuck alone. Who the hell even told you?”

Lindsey couldn't believe his ears. Was she serious about this? He had lowkey hoped that it could really be one of Mick's cruel pranks, up until the very moment she answered in the way she did.

There was no denying this now. She truly did want to get married, and it was not to him... God, she would regret this and come back to him on her knees... This much, he just knew. She thought she was so sensible and receptive, always picking up on hunches and auras, or whatever nonsense she wanted to believe in, but if he could bet his own head on this simple fact, he would do it without a moment's delay, because fuck, this would be the most short-lived ill-conceived marriage that ever was.

“Very well, Stephanie. You are a big girl, aren't you? You're totally free to go ahead and screw up your own life just like that. I am done being your guardian angel. Honestly, I am done.” He sounded like he needed to convince himself first. Stevie crossed her arms and looked up at him with an unbearable smug grin on her face. “My _guardian angel_? _You_? Please. You've done nothing but bring me down and rain on my parade, no matter how good I try to be. So fuck off, Lindsey, you and your bullshit and your unprompted hypocritical advice and most of all, your dumb ass bimbo girlfriend.”

It took an unprecedented level of self-control to keep his hands off her just then. How could she be so ungrateful and forgetful? Whatever. He was so done with taking the blame for every little thing he did _not_ do, and progressively ruining his relationship with a perfectly fine woman like Carol Ann because of a mad bitch who could not appreciate his efforts and feelings and was on a mission to fuck up her entire life.

“Wow, wow, tone it down a bit, will you? You're kinda jealous of her and it shows, which is rather unbecoming for a bride-to-be.” Lindsey took several steps back, determined to make this as hurtful for her as he could possibly manage. In order to achieve this, he needed to stifle his own rage, impose composure upon himself, and put her on the spot with ice cold pinpoint savagery instead. Stevie should have backed out right then and refused to take the bait, she should have held onto that last speck of dignity, but she was well past the point of caring how pitiful she came across as.

“Oh, don't even go there...” She looked in his eyes but her gaze was unfocused and blank. Lindsey could smell the alcohol on her breath, even from where he was standing. “If I was jealous of that stupid bitch, I could've easily walked up to her and told her about us a thousand times. She would dump your cheating ass before you could even blink, and I would be free of her forever. But I didn't do that, did I? Because I couldn't care less about your girlfriend, Lindsey.”

“Fiancée, actually.” He corrected her, as staunchly as he could sound. He hadn't popped the question for Carol Ann yet, but they did definitely talk marriage every now and then. She'd bring up the matter almost absent-mindedly, when they were in bed together and he was spent after the climax.

In that peaceful haze that followed sex, Carol would often daydream about their wedding ceremony, and ask him silly questions about their future children and all that far-away stuff that he had only ever envisioned with Stevie. He wouldn't actively say no to anything Carol came up with – too blissful in the aftermath of the intercourse for that – but neither did he seriously consider the prospect of marrying her any time soon, if at all. Well, perhaps he had been too harsh on Carol Ann and too soft on Stevie. Maybe this was all a lesson to teach him that he finally needed to give both women what they had respectively deserved from him.

“Oh, really? Why am I not surprised? How original. Do you ever do anything in your life that I haven't done first?” Stevie all but yelled in his face, her cheeks growing positively red, her bangs slapping against the sides of her forehead as she violently winced and shook from anger. “Have a nice life with your wife and please, please, please, forget that I ever existed.”

“You have no idea just how easy that'll come to me, once you go your own way and fuck up your life beyond repair. Just don't come knocking at my door when that happens because I won't even know who you are by then.” Lindsey hissed through gritted teeth, like a cornered stray.

“Fuck you, asshole!” She shouted, slamming the door, shutting him out of her house and her life altogether. She heard him kick something on the other side, as she stood perfectly silent, but still shaking from rage, ready to pick up on whatever he might've said next.

Except he said nothing. Not a sound came from him, save for the car engine starting, and the tires screeching on the driveway's gravel.


	5. And it all comes down to you (pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part 2 is finally here!!!! we're in the middle of the mirage tour so it's sept-oct 1982. the angst and the pining has never been worse so don't expect a good ending with closure on this one either

The Mirage tour started, and continued without the two of them saying a word to each other. Even on stage, even during sound check, they did barely acknowledge each other, and not a single word flew between them that was not strictly related to the very pivotal stuff, like what they would play for the encore of their next show or who would claim the top suite at the hotel they were staying at this time, and even then, they would still avoid talking to each other if asking somebody else was a viable option.

Stevie had had her wedding ceremony before Fleetwood Mac could take the road, and John, J.C., Chris, Mick and Sara had even attended, in the end. Lindsey had absolutely forbidden Carol Ann from going or even talking about it. She nagged him endlessly, demanding to know the reason, but he had successfully distracted her by hinting at their own wedding, that would outshine Stevie's by a long shot.  
That was the first time he openly spoke of marriage, and his girlfriend took him on his word. The subject practically sent her reeling, and she could hardly speak of anything else for the longest time, which would annoy Lindsey to a degree, but also please him if it happened to come up just when Stevie was around to hear Carol Ann's mindless ranting.

He might not have been speaking to Stevie, but he did still pay attention to her. He watched her from afar, and even when he couldn't get closer, he'd still subtly ask J.C. on her whereabouts, especially when she seemed to be leaving the venue in a hurry, before anybody else had the chance to tag along.

“I don't know? She's probably been invited to a party or something. You remember that the press conference has been scheduled for tomorrow morning, right, Buck?” J.C. was already concerned with tomorrow's schedule, and very little interested in knowing why Stevie had been so stealthy and uncatchable lately.

“Yeah, sure. But whose party? Why haven't we all been invited?” Lindsey pressed him on for further information, but J.C. just shrugged, and hurriedly went to hunt down Mick to remind him of the damn press conference in the morning.

He had absolutely no desire to go to a party if Stevie wasn't there so he rejected the others' invitation and just went back to the hotel. Carol was waiting for him and jumped at his throat as soon as she heard him unlock the door. “How was the show, honey?”

“It was okay. I might have under-performed because you weren't there, though.” He smiled sheepishly, gently stroking her hair.  
“I'm sorry, baby... I was so tired after the flight, and you know I can't catch a wink of sleep on planes. But you? Under-performing? That's simply not gonna happen, ever!” She placed a small kiss on the side of his lips, then slowly led him by the hand and down the hallway.

“I'm already looking forward to tomorrow night's show, though. Do you want to take a shower for now? Have you eaten?”

“Yes, I'd love that... And no. I- I'm tired, really. I just wanna sleep. There's this press conference at 10 a.m. tomorrow and I don't know how anyone is gonna show up on time. They all went off to some party or the other.” Lindsey said, unbuttoning his sweat-soaked shirt. Carol helped him unbelt his jeans.  
“Not Stevie. She is in her room, didn't go to no party.”

“Oh.” He observed, nonplussed, stepping out of his jeans. “Well, that's a first.”

Carol Ann giggled, her hands still fumbling playfully with the elastic of his boxers. “She's not gonna be lonely, though. She may be a married woman now, but I heard her going back to her room with a man. Cross my heart, hope to die.”

Great. So this is how Stevie was staying true to her vows. He kept his misgivings to himself, though, for the sake of Carol's ears. “Are you just gonna stay on your knees and talk, or are you gonna use your mouth for something worthwhile, pretty girl?”

A blowjob and a hot shower could work wonders on his mood. Lindsey fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, and he enjoyed a dreamless sleep till 3 a.m., when he woke up in a fright. He had worked up a cold sweat as he slept, and he honestly hoped he wasn't ill, or the tour would definitely end up being compromised by it.

His girlfriend slept peacefully at his side, snoring loudly every now and then, and that's how he knew that he could move freely without the risk of waking her up.

He crawled out of the bedsheets and into his pants, but couldn't find his shirt in the dark, so he decided to go for topless. What was this panic attack even all about? He had to get some fresh air at once or he would go crazy in that room.

Fuck it, he would go for a drink at the hotel bar. Drinking in the middle of the night while his girlfriend slept was not his proudest achievement, but then again, he had done worse things behind Carol Ann's back. And in any case, he wasn't the one cheating on his wife. That one was on Stevie.

Her name hadn't yet exited his mind when she entered his visual, in the flesh and completely unprompted.

She was alone, drinking something strong, judging from the stench of alcohol that radiated from the air around her. Lindsey sat a couple of stools away from her, and gestured vaguely to the barman in order to announce his arrival. “I'll take whatever she is drinking.”

She was going to up and leave, scoffing, but Lindsey called out to her. “Don't. I come in peace. Can't two old friends have a drink together in the middle of the night?”

He conveniently omitted to mention that they were the furthest thing on earth from being two old friends, and also that this wasn't just a single drink on a rare sleepless night, but a deep-running and palpable drinking problem that they had both indulged for as long as they could remember.

In spite of all this, Stevie seemed to trust that conspiratorial offer and sat down again.

The drink she was having and that he had also ordered, ended up being a Whiskey Sour. As far as he remembered, Stevie had always hated whiskey and she sure as hell never had developed a stomach for it.

But who could tell all the new things she was into these days? They had irreversibly changed into people who might have never known each other to begin with.

Whatever. She was not averse to talking now, even after all the ugly things he'd hurled at her, and it was a start, one that he could definitely work with.

“How have things been between you and, uh,” He wasn't sure he could bring himself to say Kim Anderson's name without conveying all the hatred and the scorn he still felt in his heart, but perhaps he could beat around the bush and hope that she would take it from there. Every exchange with Stevie had to be handled as cautiously and attentively as one would handle a gallon of gasoline. Most times all his efforts to keep it civil and friendly ended up being one-sided and useless, anyway. “... your husband?”

“How do you think?” She volunteered, and oddly enough, her firm and measured voice did not betray any drunken excess. Something was plain to see though, and it was her unwillingness to tackle the topic of her marriage at present.

“You know what? I've just realized, I don't want to know. I wanted to talk about you. You've been amazing on the stage tonight. I don't think I've seen you shine like that in years. You were mesmerizing.” He picked up the slack and changed the subject immediately, not wanting all this to go to shit between them for the hundredth time. Yes, part of his eulogy was aimed to earn Stevie's hard-to-win trust, but some part of him was truly awed at the prolific and formidable artist that she was growing into, ever since all this rock 'n' roll insanity started.

“Thank you...” She replied in a wary whisper. “I thought you showed them what they came here to see when you gave them Oh Diane. Even Mick was speechless back there on the drums, though he'd sooner let a double-decked bus run him over than openly tell you so.”

“Ha! Mick's a piece of shit and totally deserves to get run over by a bus.”

Stevie chuckled softly at that, like she couldn't quite help herself. Even if she hated him, and hated herself for still finding his coarse language funny, it didn't change the fact that she did laugh. A huge win for Lindsey, indeed. “I won't tell him you said that.” Stevie promised, half-heartedly, a smile still tinging her lips.

He wanted to go on being his usual smug funny self that Stevie seemed to like so much. He knew he could go on seemingly forever joking about Mick and how he would be too shitfaced on blow to actually recall who this guy Lindsey Buckingham even was. But he also didn't want to do that.

For once, he only wanted to be genuine with Stevie. No sarcastic facades, no redirecting her attention, no stupid pride, no bullshit whatsoever.

“You are glorious when you laugh. It still takes my breath away.” Lindsey took a gulp of whiskey, too chicken-shit to rest his eyes on Stevie's face and study her reaction without the help of alcohol. He let the ice cubes in his glass click and clash with each other, idly. How was it already empty so soon? Perhaps he should order another one. Stevie did not speak. She seemed intentioned to let that reckless comment fall flatly between them, unheard and glossed over. How cruel could this woman be? He looked at her face, and saw that she was looking at him first. One of her new songs for the Mirage album came back to his mind then. Not bloody Gypsy, that he had long grown sick of, but rather Straight Back.

They hadn't spoken with or confronted each other during the entire writing process but... _Hours of waiting for you, so strong and so fleeting... He remembers a melody, he remembers how good it can be..._ All that time he'd heard her sing the words, and thought nothing of it. It was just dawning on him now, seeing her hanging out in the hotel bar by herself, that there might be more to those lyrics than he'd originally presumed.

“Why, I'll be fucked.” Lindsey murmured in disbelief. “You actually...?”

“What? Waited all along for you to make the first move and come to me after you basically called me a whore and a tramp in my driveway? No way. That doesn't sound like Stevie Nicks.” Her lips curved upwards in a feeble smile that didn't reach her down-cast eyes.

“I-... well, I feel like a moron. I have been awful to you.” Lindsey almost choked on the lump in his throat. This seemed a scene out of a dream. He had, after all, had many dreams in which Stevie eventually came to him, breaching the iron curtain between them.

The way Stevie could conjure both dreams and nightmares with just a few – magic - words from her lips, would never cease to surprise him.

And the way they could be as far apart as two stars in the night sky for months on end, but then grow closer than star-crossed lovers in just a few minutes, well... That was equally awe-inspiring, and further proof that what they had was rarer than diamonds.

“Oh yeah, most of my neighbours still refuse to lock eyes with me, and some wouldn't even acknowledge my _good morning's_ , but hey, what can you do about it, right?” She laughed pitifully, but he didn't join her. Self-deprecating humour was always her preferred way to rekindle the guilt in his heart.  
It was also a clear sign that she wasn't ready to forgive him yet, and so Lindsey took the hint. He would have loved nothing better than to take her in his arms and carry her upstairs, to his suite, or hers, it didn't matter. He would make amends with kisses and anything else that his body could give her.  
But with Carol still sleeping in his bed, and Stevie's one-night stand probably still snoring in hers, it was virtually impossible. Actually, remembering that she hadn't exactly kept chaste last night made his good will wither a little. “I was mad. I wanted to hurt you. But you know I didn't really mean it, don't you? What I _mean_ is that you are the most incredible person I've ever met, and I would do anything to get you to-”

“Hey, you two, what are you doing up?” The feminine, sleepy voice came from behind them, unbidden. It was just an unwritten rule among everybody in the Fleetwood Mac retinue that nobody, by any means, was to disturb Stevie and Lindsey if they were having a heart-to-heart in the wee hours, but clearly Carol Ann had never gotten the memo and walked in on them nevertheless.

Lindsey's eyes turned wide as he set them blazenly on his girlfriend, and tried very hard to detect any faint speck of accusation or suspicion in the question she'd just uttered. As she stood there, cluelessly rubbing the sleep from her eyes, there seemed to be none.

“Just having a drink, darling. Why don't you go back to our room and wait for me there?” Lindsey replied hurriedly, inwardly panicking as he sensed Stevie's annoyance at the word _darling_. Once again, he found himself caught between the proverbial rock and the hard place, and would once again need to choose which woman to please and which woman to give up.

“No need. I was going back to sleep anyway. J.C. will have my head if I don't show up on time for the press conference. Have a lovely night.” Dry as a neglected succulent, Stevie got to her feet, slammed a few bucks on the bar counter for the barman to pick up, and walked right past Carol Ann.

Lindsey watched her walk away silently, as a thousand thoughts raged in his mind and a billion words died in the back of his throat.


End file.
